


How to Punish a Padawan

by lu_ca



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Crying, Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Porn with Feelings, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 05:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5697316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lu_ca/pseuds/lu_ca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What are you gonna do, spank me?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Punish a Padawan

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing like some cliche spanking fic with a cliche title to christen my ao3! Written for [this prompt](https://starwarskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/586.html?thread=120138#cmt120138) on the Star Wars Kink Meme.
> 
> Tagged as underage, but Anakin's age isn't specified.

Obi-Wan sighs, checking the clock for the hundredth time.

Anakin is late. Again.

Normally, Obi-Wan wouldn't be this irritated. Okay, maybe he _would_ be this irritated, but he wouldn't be waiting up for the boy in the middle of the night. In fact, he'd much rather be in bed right now. But this is the third night in a row that Anakin has broken curfew, nearly the tenth time just this month, and Obi-Wan is at his wits' end with the boy. 

Of course, Obi-Wan expects a few broken rules where Anakin is concerned, simply because it's _Anakin_ —stubborn, insolent, impossible Anakin. But it's becoming a vicious cycle. Step one: Obi-Wan tells Anakin not to stay out late. Step two: Anakin swears that he won't, with a solemn nod and a "Yes, Master." Step three: Anakin comes slinking back into their shared quarters hours after the time they agreed upon, so complacent in his sneaking abilities that he thinks Obi-Wan doesn't notice. Side effects of the Padawan's disobedience include, but are not limited to: oversleeping the next morning, being late for lessons, tiredness, carelessness, irritability, etc. Rinse, repeat.

So it would make sense for him to want to come home early and get a decent night's sleep, right?

Obi-Wan thinks so, but clearly Anakin doesn't share the sentiment. Which is why Obi-Wan is awake right now—a last-ditch effort to finally get Anakin to listen by catching the boy by surprise and giving him a good scolding. A tenuous plan at best, but Obi-Wan is willing to try anything at this point, considering that all his previous attempts at disciplining Anakin have gone right over the boy's head.

He sighs again. _Teenagers_.

Obi-Wan is starting to nod off in his seat at the kitchen table when the sound of a door opening and closing—followed by a muted crash, an unintelligible curse, and footsteps that Anakin thinks are inconspicuous (they're not)—rouses him.

"You're late, Anakin," he reprimands when the boy walks into view, and Anakin looks surprised to see Obi-Wan up, but he takes it in stride. _Typical_.

"Sorry, Master," he apologizes sweetly. "I lost track of time." His pretty blue eyes widen in exaggerated innocence, and that doesn't fool Obi-Wan anymore. Not tonight, anyway.

"This is the third night in a row that you've 'lost track of time,'" he says sternly. "Do I need to remind you how to _tell_ time, young Padawan? Have you forgotten?"

The innocent expression falls from Anakin's face when he realizes it won't get him out of trouble this time. "Third night in a row, huh?" He retorts. "You're counting? What happens when I get to five?"

And within minutes of Anakin walking through the door, Obi-Wan is already on the brink of a headache. He suddenly realizes he is much too tired to deal with his Padawan's attitude right now. He's having trouble recalling why he thought this would be a good idea in the first place. They'll talk about it in the morning, he decides, when they've both had a few hours of sleep and aren't so wound-up.

"Go to bed, Anakin," he sighs in exhaustion. "We'll discuss this in the morning. Though I somehow doubt that the time of day will make any difference as to whether or not you listen." He does his best to ignore Anakin's triumphant smirk. Tries to control the urge to get up and wipe the smug expression right off the boy's face. Because what kind of Jedi would that make him?

"Goodnight, Master," Anakin says saccharinely as he stalks by Obi-Wan to get to his room, and that's when he catches it—the faint whiff of alcohol clinging to his Padawan, stirred up by the movement of his robe. Obi-Wan narrows his eyes. Has a brief moment of silence for the sleep he will lose tonight. 

"Stop," he calls, and Anakin turns around to face him, looking annoyed.

"What now?" He asks, and not politely. _Incorrigible boy_.

"Have you been drinking?" Obi-Wan demands, and the guilt that flashes across Anakin's face before he hardens his expression is more than enough to give him away.

"What if I have?" He challenges, not even bothering to deny it. _Reckless, arrogant boy_.

"Then you are in a lot more trouble than I previously thought," Obi-Wan counters with thinly veiled exasperation.

"Oh yeah?" Anakin argues. _Always arguing_. "What are you gonna do, spank me?"

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow. A tempting thought. Perhaps he should.

"I might."

Anakin snorts at that. "Funny."

He expects Obi-Wan to laugh it off, or at least shrug it off with an amused roll of his eyes, but his Master's expression remains serious, eyes trained on Anakin. Anakin's grin falters.

"Okay," he says, trying to break the tension. "Well, I'm gonna go to bed while you deliberate on my punishment, Master." Obi-Wan doesn't miss his hint of mocking.

Anakin is turning away when Obi-Wan's voice stops him. "No, you're not."

Anakin looks back, confused. "What? But you said—"

"Come here, Anakin," he interrupts. 

Eyeing his Master suspiciously, Anakin takes a few wary steps closer. He's about to ask what's going on when Obi-Wan pushes his chair out from the table and gestures to his lap. Anakin remains silent and unmoving, brows furrowed at what he thinks Obi-Wan is suggesting.

"Well?" Obi-Wan says, splaying his arms. "Go on, then."

Anakin lets out a scandalized gasp. "You're joking," he says, tone full of disbelief. Only, Obi-Wan doesn't look like he's joking, and this isn't funny anymore.

"It was your idea, Anakin," Obi-Wan reminds him.

"I was _kidding_."

"Were you?" Obi-Wan asks, and Anakin bristles at the insinuation.

" _Yes_ ," he insists. "I'm _not_ doing that."

"It wasn't a suggestion, Anakin."

Anakin doesn't move. The room suddenly feels very hot.

" _Now_ , Padawan."

Obi-Wan's voice startles him into action. "Yes, Master," falls from his lips, an instinctual reaction to Obi-Wan's demanding tone. His face burns, and he bows his head as he closes the distance between them.

Obi-Wan's legs spread wider to accommodate him as he carefully lays himself over his Master's lap, bending forward until his hands reach the floor. Obi-Wan strokes a hand through Anakin's hair and settles it at the back of his neck, holds it in place with a thumb on his pulse point. He feels apprehension radiate from the boy, the _thump-thump_ of his heart quickening against Obi-Wan's fingers, a beat faster for every second Obi-Wan makes him wait. 

And when Anakin begins to twitch with nervousness, he finally raises his other hand and brings it down across the boy's backside. The sound is dulled by layers of clothing, but it is deafening.

Anakin cries out at the strike, more in surprise than pain, and flushes with embarrassment.

"Count them," Obi-Wan commands, and Anakin obeys.

"One," he says, voice already shaky.

Obi-Wan brings his hand down again, harder this time.

"Two."

Left side.

"Three."

Right side.

"Four."

Top of his thigh.

"Five."

The room is silent apart from Anakin's ragged breathing, and his heart is pounding so fast he's sure it must be vibrating through Obi-Wan's body in all the places they're touching. He braces himself for the next impact, but it doesn't come. He waits, fidgets in agitation, and inhales sharply when, instead, Obi-Wan's hand comes down to stroke softly at his backside.

"Master?" He questions hesitantly.

"Remove your pants."

Anakin sputters, jaw dropping in dismay. "W— _What_?"

"I won't tell you again, Padawan," Obi-Wan replies, and if Anakin's face was burning before, then it is on fire, now.

He shuts his eyes tight against threatening tears and reaches back to struggle himself out of his pants. His underwear catch and begin to pull down, too, and he can't get them to stay up from the awkward position he's in, Obi-Wan still holding him down with a hand on his neck.

"Master, I can't," he cries, stopping when his ass is only half uncovered.

"What did I just say, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asks in a low voice that makes him want to curl in on himself.

"I—" he tries, but Obi-Wan is immediately cutting him off.

"Do I need to do it for you?"

Anakin barely holds back a sob.

"Answer me, Padawan."

"Y—yes, Master," he admits quietly, shame lacing his voice, both at disappointing his Master and at being bent over his lap with his ass on display.

Anakin returns his hands to the floor, lifting his hips slightly as Obi-Wan pushes his robe high up on his back and grips the waistband of his pants, pulling them down along with his underwear until they're pooled around his ankles. Anakin gasps as Obi-Wan strokes at his ass again, the sensation heightened without his clothes in the way.

And when Obi-Wan brings his hand down fast on Anakin's bare ass, the noise he makes isn't one of pain.

He _moans_.

And then instantly widens his eyes, air rushing out of his lungs and blood running cold as he fervently hopes the sound he just made was drowned out by the harsh slap that rang along with it. He waits for the next slap, beginning to internally panic, when Obi-Wan speaks.

"Count, Padawan."

Oh. Right. He'd forgotten to count. What number were they on, again?

"Uh—um—six," he stutters.

Obi-Wan doesn't say anything else, doesn't comment on Anakin's stumbling over his words, so maybe he really didn't hear the—

Anakin is broken out of his thoughts as a hand comes down hard against the sensitive flesh between his ass and thigh and, caught off guard, he moans again, only able to cut himself off halfway through.

"Mm—seven," he bites out.

The eighth strike lands in the same area as the last, and Anakin has to shove his fist in his mouth to keep the noise inside his throat.

"Eight," he gasps.

The ninth strike, on the back of his thigh, sends him forward a little with its velocity, making him painfully aware of his cock pressing against Obi-Wan's thigh, painfully aware that he's _getting hard_.

Anakin _likes_ this.

He likes the feeling of his Master's rough hands on him, one at the scruff of his neck and the other coming down relentlessly against his naked ass, making his skin ache. It's turning him on.

"Nine," he remembers to say right before strike number ten, and Anakin tries focusing his thoughts on something, _anything_ else, willing his dick to go down, but he can't—not with the friction it's getting from being trapped between his body and Obi-Wan's leg, not with the way Obi-Wan is making his ass sting perfectly. His cock is only getting fuller, and he has to stop this before Obi-Wan notices, before Obi-Wan can see how disgusting his Padawan is, taking pleasure in being punished.

"Ten," he breathes out, and before Obi-Wan's hand can make contact with his skin again, he asks in a fragile voice, "Master?"

"Yes, Anakin?" Obi-Wan responds coolly, voice betraying no emotion—the complete opposite of Anakin, whose entire body is thrumming with desperation that courses through his veins, settling like a thick fog in his brain and clouding his judgment.

Obi-Wan's hand coming down to lightly rest on Anakin's backside throws him off, and he nearly forgets what he wants to say, struggling to form words through the feeling of Obi-Wan's warm palm on his tender skin.

"H—How many more?" He manages to ask, much weaker than he originally intended.

"How many do you think you deserve, Anakin?" His Master asks, and what can he say to that?

Small, anxious noises slip from his throat as he hopelessly searches for a reply, his sluggish mind unable to decipher Obi-Wan's meaning. Is it a trick question? Will he get in more trouble if he answers? Will he get in more trouble if he _doesn't_ answer?

He doesn't know. He can't think.

"I—I don't know," he moans pitifully.

He feels Obi-Wan's sigh more than he hears it. "Then, I suppose I will just have to continue until I feel inclined to stop," he says, and this time Anakin can't hold back his sob.

The gentle pressure of Obi-Wan's hand against his ass is quickly replaced by the jarring pain of another slap. Anakin doesn't even try to muffle the moan that escapes his mouth, can't focus on anything besides the heated skin of his ass and his hardening cock.

"What number was that, Anakin?" His Master prompts when Anakin is silent, and he has to take a few uneven breaths before he can remember.

"Eleven," he chokes out, and Obi-Wan acknowledges him with another slap.

"Twelve." Anakin is panting now, cock fully hard against Obi-Wan's lap, and when the thirteenth strike hits, pre-come leaks out onto Obi-Wan's leg.

There's no way Obi-Wan doesn't notice. But he's not stopping.

"Thirteen," Anakin groans, and then comes the fourteenth. He's beginning to shake with need, with how much it burns. It's still not enough.

"Fourteen," and the fifteenth comes before the second syllable has even left his mouth, causing him to break off into a whine. His breath is coming erratically, chest rapidly expanding and contracting, and he can't control it, can't control any part of his body anymore—gave up his control the second he laid himself in Obi-Wan's lap.

"What number, Anakin?"

In between shallow breaths, a whispered "Please" slips out, almost too soft to hear.

"Anakin," his Master repeats. "What number?"

He whines again. "Fifteen."

Another "Please" escapes before the sixteenth strike hits his ass, and again after it lands.

"Sixteen," he whispers. "Please, Master." He's not sure what he's begging for, and another strike comes down, and then he knows.

" _Harder_ ," he chokes. "Seventeen."

Obi-Wan obliges.

"Eighteen," "Nineteen," "Twenty," and Anakin is sobbing with how bad it hurts, with how bad he wants it to hurt _more_.

"Please," he keeps begging hoarsely in between slaps as they steadily increase in intensity, and by twenty-one he's started rutting up against Obi-Wan's leg without meaning to, the friction on his leaking cock making him cry out as "Twenty-one" leaves his lips and another slap follows.

"Twenty-two," he sobs, breathing punctuated by a continuous string of whines as he helplessly grinds his hips down into Obi-Wan's lap.

Twenty-three, on the back of his thigh, again, and all he can do is moan loudly.

"Padawan," his Master says, and Anakin shudders.

"I can't," he whimpers. "Master, please."

Obi-Wan grips Anakin around the waist and stills his hips, stopping the incessant grind of his cock against Obi-Wan's thigh, and Anakin nearly screams.

"Twenty-three," he wails, crying in relief when Obi-Wan lets him move again. He picks up his speed, the drag of his sensitive cock against the rough material of Obi-Wan's pants making him throb with arousal, and when the twenty-fourth slap hits him hard across his swollen, red ass, he actually does scream.

"Twenty-four," and his voice cracks, thighs quivering, cock freely leaking pre-come that soaks into the fabric of Obi-Wan's pants. He wishes he could get a hand on himself, wishes Obi-Wan would do it for him—lift him up and turn him over, sit him in his lap, stroke him until he's coming all over his own stomach. It wouldn't take long, with how close he is. He'd probably come the second his Master's hand touched his cock. The image has him writhing. He's never been so turned on in his life.

Twenty-five, one more thrust against Obi-Wan's leg, and he's coming hard with a long, desperate whine, hips bucking wildly as he releases into Obi-Wan's lap in thick pulses. He's too overwhelmed to register Obi-Wan's hand leisurely rubbing along the trembling skin of his back as he whimpers, hips unconsciously rutting a few more times before his body begins to relax, pounding heart slowing back to normal.

The fog in Anakin's brain starts to dissipate, only to make way for the thunderstorm of frantic thoughts that rolls in, swirling around his mind violently as he comes to his senses and realizes what just happened.

He just got off from being spanked by his Master.

Anakin panics. _What must he think of me?_ _He's probably repulsed, he probably hates me, probably thinks I'm a disgrace, probably never wants to see my face again._

He's still draped across Obi-Wan's lap, spanked-raw ass on full display, and he feels paralyzed. He can't move. He can't face his Master like this.

"Get up, Padawan," Obi-Wan says, and he doesn't sound angry, but how could he not be?

Anakin swallows worriedly before slowly pushing himself off his Master's lap, muscles stiff and sore from being held in their uncomfortable position for so long. He self-consciously yanks his pants back up as he stands, keeping his head down and eyes fixed on his feet because he's too afraid to look at his Master, to see the evidence of his embarrassment on Obi-Wan's legs, staining his pants. It's bad enough that he can feel it sticky and cooling on his own skin.

He feels hot all over with shame, and he can't stop the humiliated tears that pour down his face, dripping onto the floor.

"I'm sorry, Master," he whispers miserably, clenching his shaking hands into fists, hard enough for his nails to dig in.

Obi-Wan stands, and he wants to disappear.

"Look at me, Anakin." It's spoken softly, but it's still an order.

He takes a shuddering breath before looking up, an absolutely devastated expression on his tear-stained face, and he may be almost the same height as Obi-Wan, but right now he feels infinitely smaller.

Obi-Wan's eyes are gentle as his hands come up to cradle Anakin's face, fingers sliding into his hair to straighten his Padawan braid. More tears stream down Anakin's cheeks at this, at the thought that he doesn't deserve his Master's kindness, not after what he just did.

"Hush, Anakin," Obi-Wan soothes, brushing away tears with his thumbs. "It's all right."

Anakin's lip quivers, sobs building beneath the surface, threatening to burst forth, and the mess of emotions that he involuntarily communicates through their Force bond—sorrow, self-loathing, remorse—is stifling. Obi-Wan pulls him into a hug, and he cracks.

"Oh, Anakin," he sighs genuinely as Anakin buries his face in Obi-Wan's shoulder and bawls, hands grasping fistfuls of his Master's robe as he uncontrollably mumbles "I'm sorry" over and over again. Obi-Wan's heart aches for him. "My poor, tragic, young Padawan." _Breakable boy._

Obi-Wan holds him until he stops shaking, and Anakin doesn't move even after the tears won't come anymore, not wanting to leave the comfort of his Master's embrace.

But Obi-Wan pulls away eventually, holding onto Anakin's shoulders and seeking his gaze when his Padawan won't make eye contact. When they do lock eyes, Anakin's red and puffy from crying, Obi-Wan asks, "Have you learned your lesson?"

Anakin searches his thoughts in alarm. He'd forgotten that there even was a lesson. What had he done wrong again?

"Yes, Master," he says, anyway, and it's not entirely a lie—he'd probably remember it later, right?

A hint of amusement appears on Obi-Wan's face, and he must take pity on his clearly distressed Padawan, because he says, "No more breaking curfew, correct?"

Oh, yeah. That's what it was.

"Yes, Master," Anakin agrees, more confidently this time.

"And no more drinking?" Obi-Wan adds.

Anakin opens his mouth in defiance, about to argue, but changes his mind before any words get out. _Probably best not to push the issue_ , he thinks. Instead gives another "Yes, Master," albeit a bit more grumbly than the last.

Obi-Wan smiles fondly at his ridiculous, infuriating, insufferable Padawan. He has the feeling that it won't be long before Anakin breaks that particular rule again. He loves the boy, anyway.

"Go to bed, Anakin," he says, smoothing his Padawan's hair affectionately, and for once, Anakin actually listens.

He comes home early the next night, and Obi-Wan can't decide whether or not he's surprised.

And if he notices Anakin wincing each time he sits down for the next few days, well, he has the grace not to mention it.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I was only going to have Anakin get spanked ten times, then it turned into twenty-five. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
